


Sarah Vs. The Bob, Part II

by Principia



Series: Sarah Vs. The Bob [2]
Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: Between Seasons/Series, F/M, Gen, Post-Season/Series 04 Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 09:17:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Principia/pseuds/Principia





	Sarah Vs. The Bob, Part II

_ Morgan, Intersect or no, is barely managing to keep even close behind Chuck as they swiftly make their way back to the machine room where Morgan had last left Sarah.  _

_ Despite Morgan’s assurances that it wouldn’t be necessary, Casey insisted they take the full kit with them. It’s banging insistently against Chuck’s hip as he and Morgan make their way back to Sarah as fast as caution permits. _

** Chuck: **  *barking back over his shoulder* What the hell were you _thinking_ , Morgan?Why didn’t you just call it in?

** Morgan: **  Because _you_ needed to stay up front to keep an eye on things in case someone managed to get the power turned back on to the rest of the campus. 

** Chuck: ** Well I’m not up front now, am I?

** Morgan: ** And besides, as an agent in the field, sometimes you gotta make your own calls. Do what your gut tells ya. You know that better than anybody.

** Chuck: ** Morgan, _my_ gut has never gotten a member of my team _caught_ in a piece of industrial equipment. And might I remind you that just last week _your_ gut was telling you washing down an order of daredevil hot wings with a Brandy Alexander was a good idea! 

_ Chuck and Morgan continue on for several more minutes in a tense silence, until Morgan skitters up to Chuck’s side. _

** Morgan: ** We’re gonna want that small building ahead, the one that looks like a shed. 

** Chuck: ** That’s not on any of maps of this compound.

_ Chuck and Morgan speak simultaneously. _

** Chuck/Morgan: ** It’s not big enough to _be_ on any maps.

** Morgan: ** See, _see?!_

** Chuck: ** Yes, I see the building. What I don’t see is why we’re going in there. *after a beat* Wait a minute. Why did _you_ go in there? How did you talk Sarah into it?

** Morgan: ** *taps his temple* Need to know.

_ Chuck huffs. _

** Morgan: ** Because it has blackout windows and we needed to make sure it was actually blacked out?

_ Chuck gives Morgan a hard stare. _

** Morgan: ** Alright, alright, I told her it showed up on the Intersect as leading to an underground shortcut to the vault.

** Chuck: ** *tense* _Does_ it?

** Morgan: ** *sounding only slightly remorseful, and possibly on the verge of laughter* No.

_ Chuck and Morgan reach the door of the faux shed and Morgan tuts Chuck aside to begin working on the lock that Sarah had previously gotten open. _

** Chuck: ** *as Morgan works* Morgan, this isn’t _funny_. You two could’ve been seriously hurt. What if you’d gotten some kind of high pressure injection injury, or Sarah got her arm or foot caught in a machine instead of the straps on her jacket?

_ Morgan coughs once, then finishes working the complicated electronic lock with a satisfied sigh. He stands, dusting himself off as Chuck continues to watch him expectantly, waiting for an answer. Morgan opens the door without another word, and holds it open for Chuck, bowing slightly. _

_ Chuck growls softly at Morgan and steps inside… to a small, pitch-dark space. _

** Chuck: ** *voice echoing as if off of metal* Morgan, what the hell is this? I thought you said this place had power.

** Morgan: ** Patience, my friend. If I may.

** Chuck: ** _Patience?_ You’re going to lecture me about patience. *batting at the top of Morgan’s head* Sarah is still down there!

_ Morgan dodges Chuck’s swat and reaches under Chuck’s arm left arm and pushes on a small, recessed button in the wall ahead of them. After a moment, a low hum becomes audible, and the small space he and Chuck are in rotates in place, revealing an opening in a second layer of metal sheathing. _

** Chuck: ** *momentarily impressed as he steps out into a well-lit area and looks back where they came from* It’s like a motorized darkroom vestibule.

** Morgan: ** Something we might think about for one of the entrances to Castle, eh? C’mon, it’s this way.

_ Morgan starts jogging down a metal set of stairs and Chuck quickly follows. After progressing down a couple of flights, what was a small security shed’s worth of space opens out into a far larger room. The ductwork and pipes and various walkways make it difficult to ascertain the exact dimensions, but it’s possible this new zone is as large as the rest of the corporate campus above and surrounding it. _

_ Chuck frowns deeply as Morgan starts to scramble off ahead of him, then thinks better of it and waits for Chuck like someone getting ready to give a guided tour. _

** Morgan: ** *as they start walking at a brisk but calm pace towards the machine room* As you can see, what appears in public to be a mere document services company may have a fake Chinese restaurant menu of its own.

_ Morgan continues nattering on for a bit. Chuck licks his lips in thought as he looks around at the various and sundry printed materials he and Morgan are passing by. Scattered about the place are also various bottles of unusual inks, various exotic types of paper, and odd lamps and lightboxes… none of which Morgan seems to have noticed, and all of which are a clear giveaway to an agent with Chuck’s breadth of experience. _

** Morgan: ** …so anyway, elite secret paramilitary academies around the world with a chain of document services stores as their cover, that’s kinda what I was thinking.

_ Morgan finally brings them to another large door, this time with a mechanical lock. _

** Chuck: ** May I? *as he works the tumblers of the lock* I hate to break it to you buddy, but I’m pretty sure these guys are _counterfeiters_.

** Morgan: ** *not too perturbed at having been wrong* Oh, I guess that would make sense, considering the, uh, presses.

_ Chuck gets the door open. _

** Chuck: ** No, no, after you.

_ Morgan scoots around Chuck, once again leading the way. _

—————————————————-

_ Sarah’s where Morgan left her, seated in an incredibly awkward position. Better than if she’d been standing this whole time, but everything from her shoulders up feels like one giant cramp, with a solid helping of bruising all along her scalp. The continuous pressure into the back of her thighs from the edge of the seat is starting to make her lower legs and feet go numb. She’s working at keeping her calm center so she doesn’t lash out at Chuck when he gets here. Assuming Morgan was listening and brought him. If he didn’t, a tongue lashing was going to be the least of Morgan’s worries. _

** Morgan: ** *muffled and slightly echoing as he approaches* So, anyhow, the presses are just around here.

_ Sarah tenses slightly with anticipation. _

** Chuck: ** *despite the distortion, it’s audible that he’s trying to be as un-cross as possible* I feel a little foolish now, having lugged this whole kit with me…

_ Sarah almost bursts into tears at the welcome sound of Chuck’s voice, soothing even when he’s in all-business mode, but old habits keep her from calling out to him. _

** Chuck: ** *as he rounds the nearest bend* …just to cut off some clothing. Though I might need the tools if any of the… Kevlar’s… involved.

_ Chuck’s casual talk winds to a halt as he comes around above the back side of the largest press in this area and sees a familiar pair of booted feet and the legs of a chair. _

** Chuck: ** Sarah, you should stand up so we can get better leverage on the jacket…?

_ Chuck jogs down the short set of steps in front of him, the sound echoing off the walkway’s grated floor, and sees from behind **exactly** why Sarah isn’t budging. _

_ He pales, a deep frown forming on his brow as he lets the medical kit slide to the floor with a soft thud. He’s not sure he trusts himself enough right this second to turn around and look at Morgan, who’s just up the steps behind him. And besides, Morgan’s the least important factor in this current equation. _

** Chuck: ** *unsteady* Baby?

** Sarah: ** *warm, but still taut* Hi Chuck. Sorry for the command performance.

** Chuck: ** *into his watch, while he can still trust his voice* Casey, this may take a bit longer than expected.

_ The group’s earpieces crackle to life. _

** Casey: ** *over the radio* What a surprise. We’ve still got the all-clear here. Keep me informed.

** Chuck: ** Roger that.

_ Sarah can hear the soft sounds of Chuck approaching her carefully and kneeling behind her, and she feels the welcome warmth of Chuck’s large hand on her back, directly between her shoulder blades. _

** Sarah: ** *on a sharp exhale of relief* Oh, that feels really good.

** Chuck: ** *doing his best impression of Ellie and Devon in doctor mode, goodness knows he’s heard them enough times over the years* I promise I’ll tell you if I need to touch any other part of you before I do it, okay?

** Sarah: ** Sure. *artificially bright* I’m not going anywhere.

_ Chuck turns on a flashlight, then moves carefully down and up and around where Sarah’s hair is caught in the press rollers to get as good a look as possible. _

_ Sarah’s doing an excellent job of remaining as relaxed as possible despite the pain she’s in, though she’s certainly not fooling Chuck. _

** Morgan:  ** Actually, Chuck, I already got footage of all that, if you wanted to…

** Chuck: ** *very, very calm* Morgan?

** Morgan: ** *resigned; the jig is up* Yes, Chuck.

** Chuck: ** Can you get me the larger shears out of the kit, and then come over here and hold the flashlight _exactly_ where I tell you to while I cut… Sarah out of this?

** Morgan: ** Of course.

_ Over the next short while, Chuck works to free Sarah, murmuring soothingly as he tries to cut off as little of her hair as possible. Sarah is able to slowly unwind from her tense position as he makes progress, finally ending up facing upward and leaning back against the chair as if she were getting her hair washed at a salon. _

_ Sarah can’t help but let out a short, glad sob as Chuck makes the final cuts to free her, and then helps her to stand up straight. Sarah nuzzles up against Chuck as he radios back to Casey to give him a progress report, then starts moving and stretching as far as her condition will allow. _

** Chuck: ** I’ve got her out now, and we’re going to try to remove the evidence of our presence as best we can.

** Casey: ** *static-y* What about the servers?

** Chuck: ** *only half directed at Casey; he’s now staring at Morgan* Sarah and I are going to retrieve those while Morgan gets Sarah’s hair out of the press.

** Casey: ** Did you just say _hair_?

** Chuck: ** Yes.

** Casey: ** *after a long pause* Roger that. We have another three hours before shift change.

** Chuck: ** And make a note that we need to put in an anonymous tip to the Secret Service and possibly the State Department as soon as we’re out of here. It seems as though our friends here are into a little funny money, not all of it American.

_ Despite Chuck’s thorough efforts, the result is still a jagged cut noticeably above Sarah’s shoulders, and a large amount of her hair remains sticking out of the rollers. _

_ Sarah gives Chuck a slightly damp smile, and he brushes his hand lightly along her arm, a sympathetic expression on his face. _

** Chuck: ** You ready?

** Sarah: ** *as she’s gingerly testing her range of motion* We might want to take it a little slow; I’m not sure how good I am for any big dustups. I should be okay on the return trip, provided I can get the rest of these kinks out on the way.

_ Chuck leans over and gives her a delicate peck on the cheek. _

** Chuck:  ** Okay, let’s get going.

** Sarah: ** You…?

** Chuck: ** Yeah, I’m good for the way back out.

_ Sarah starts slowly up the steps, Chuck a step or two behind her, ready to catch her if need be. _

** Morgan: **  *making a dusting-off-his-hands motion* Well, I guess I’ve got my work cut out for me here.

_ Chuck stops briefly at the top of the steps as Sarah continues forward, then thinks better of whatever he was going to say and follows his wife, shaking his head. _


End file.
